Ch.120Ch.8 – And Then There Was Nothing (5)

“That’s strange. One can’t grow hair that long in such a short time. Is it a wig?”

Fortunately, Aurora seemed to think Emma was Catherine. Emma looked straight ahead again. We also looked at the clock. The auction would start in 10 minutes.

As we waited, people filled the remaining seats. Everyone wore fine clothes and expensive accessories. There were far more young people than older ones. Their hair gleamed with evenly applied pomade, and their oily faces exuded wealth, but their slumped shoulders and stiff necks—like those of slaves—revealed their tension and anxiety.

These were typical nouveau riche, a common sight these days. Some had bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, their melted gums visible whenever they smiled—signs of opium addiction.

“Brokers,” Aurora whispered.

“Stock brokers. They say the more successful the broker, the more steeped in opium they are, and that seems true. But isn’t it strange? They say the stock market is booming like never before, yet why do we only see people who’ve invested money, not those who’ve actually made it?”

I asked if she had invested.

“Ha. I don’t do that sort of thing. I avoid games where legal thieves abound. I don’t bet on horse races or gamble. When everything can be manipulated, what’s the point?”

That was quintessentially Aurora.

The auction time was almost upon us. People rushed in all at once, filling every seat. The front door opened, and an elderly gentleman entered, walking with a cane.

“Welcome, everyone.”

The auction began.

* * * * *

The items were truly diverse. From a jewel box that had disappeared during colonial times only to resurface later, to a lost gold coin from a privateer captain, to tattered ancient documents that would only interest scholars. Emma never raised her number paddle, and neither did I, but Aurora was different.

When someone would call out, “140 dollars,” Aurora would respond with:

“145 dollars.”

“150 dollars.”

“153 dollars.”

She would gradually increase the amount, gently provoking the other bidders. Eventually, her opponent would suddenly jump the price:

“170 dollars.”

Aurora would then pretend to be upset, hiding her smile behind her fan, while the successful bidder would grin foolishly—even though they could have bought it for much less if Aurora hadn’t been there.

“This is fun. There’s real pleasure in teasing fools,” she would laugh. I couldn’t quite grasp the scale of money changing hands before my eyes.

In a world where the average doctor’s annual salary is 3,000 dollars—about 250 dollars monthly—was that worn-out letter with faded writing really worth a doctor’s monthly income?

Even to someone like me who knows little about history and culture, a secret love letter between a British sergeant from colonial times and a wealthy American widow doesn’t seem worth 200 dollars.

After three auctions, a bell rang announcing an intermission. As the auction hall doors opened, the heat instantly dissipated.

Behind the auction hall was a well-maintained park with a fountain. It would have seemed quite comfortable if not for the intimidatingly high fence surrounding it.

The area was filled with people exchanging greetings, introducing new acquaintances, and brokers trying to promote new stock offerings amidst the crowd.

Aurora and I found a bench under a rose trellis, away from all the commotion.

“Don’t you see?” Aurora chided me.

“These people didn’t come for the auction. They didn’t come because they know the true value of the items. Look at the crowd over there. People who never opened their mouths in the auction hall are now talking more passionately than anyone.”

It was true. They were all discussing safe insurance products, stocks, and real estate.

They talked about how they invested in something and its value skyrocketed instantly, or how one could make risk-free money by exploiting the time difference between the New York and Chicago exchanges.

“They came to move money around. Rich people gathering to move even more money around,” Aurora whispered, opening her fan.

“And look, our dear security bureau agent is coming.”

Emma Scully was crossing the garden toward us. It was remarkable how different she seemed with just a change in hair length and the addition of glasses.

“It’s been a while. Federal Security Bureau salaries must be higher than I thought?” Aurora’s words were barbed, but Emma silently looked back and forth between Aurora and me. Eventually, seeming to understand the situation, she raised one corner of her mouth.

“Better than expected. Anyway, I’d like to have a word with this gentleman.”

“Go ahead and speak in front of me.”

Aurora gripped my arm. Emma’s smile turned ominous.

“It might be too bold a conversation for such a refined and beautiful lady.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Very well. Then, shall we talk about our passionate night together? Those nights so ardent that we met even in dreams…”

My arm hurt as if caught in an eagle’s talons. Emma covered her mouth with her small fist and laughed.

“Don’t you have anything to say about those sweet conversations we had in the Greek garden? With withered rose vines, just the two of us…”

It was practically a threat that she would twist her words even more if I didn’t come with her. I gently pushed Aurora away. I heard the sound of teeth grinding.

“I’ll deal with you later,” I said.

I walked with Emma to the opposite corner of the garden. Emma laughed, shaking her shoulders. I demanded to know what she was doing.

“Nice to meet you in person. I don’t need to introduce myself, do I?”

Emma leaned against the wall, slightly twisting her body.

“Did I say anything wrong? We did meet in dreams, and we did meet in a garden with withered plants. By the way, that lady you came with—she’s quite fierce. Even the great general of Hyperborea wasn’t that intense.”

I pointed to the snake bracelet on her wrist and suggested we get to the point. But the smile never left Emma’s face.

“You came knowing everything, didn’t you? This will make things quicker. This is my job. Stay out of it.”

I asked her to explain in more detail. From inside, a bell rang announcing five minutes until the auction resumed. Emma tried to brush past me, but I grabbed her left arm.

“What are you doing?”

I told her I wouldn’t let go unless she gave me a proper explanation. Emma lowered her head and laughed.

“That lady behind you is looking at you with murderous eyes. Doesn’t that concern you?”

I didn’t know Emma’s circumstances, but I had a lot at stake here too. I declared that I couldn’t just let her go like this. Emma brushed her hair back with her right hand.

“I have no choice. But I can’t tell you everything—there’s no time. Just know that Arthur Black and Annette Cole don’t have good intentions. That natural history museum is a facade; they’re really collecting artifacts. These two brick pieces are among them. You must not let those two pieces meet. Understand?”

I didn’t understand at all. I didn’t release Emma’s arm. She looked at me, then at Aurora behind me, and suddenly wrapped her right arm around my neck, pulling me close.

“Fear the curse of the serpent.”

Then she lightly kissed my cheek.

“This is exactly why.”

It happened so quickly that I couldn’t prevent her from escaping my grasp. Emma entered the auction hall without looking back.

While I was staring blankly at Emma’s retreating figure, Aurora approached. She gently took my arm.

“You’re quite popular, my assistant. Have you ever seen the bottom of the Atlantic?”

The sudden formality and mention of the Atlantic seabed caught me off guard.

“I’ve never seen it myself, but when I invite people to see it, they’re always thrilled. So thrilled that they never think about coming back. For you, my special assistant, I’ll personally attach the anchor line.”

Then she went into the auction hall alone.

* * * * *

One more auction ended. Now only the final one remained.

“Our final item today,” the elderly gentleman began.

“A brick fragment carved with a snake-man. It appears to have originally been a single piece, but is now split into two. One piece was sold at a high price in a recent auction. This piece is truly unique.

Look here at the twisted body of the snake and the detailed musculature of the snake-man. Such precise depiction would be impossible without thorough knowledge of anatomy. Though clearly carved from stone, there isn’t a single scratch.

But the reason this work is so highly valued isn’t simply because it’s so ancient that its origin is unknown.”

The elderly man lifted a glass of water with trembling hands. Even taking a single sip seemed difficult for him. Only after catching his breath a couple of times did he point to the carving again.

“Cruelty. What this sculpture speaks of is cruelty. Look at the human figure lying with its belly cut open at the feet of this being—half human in body but with a serpent’s head—though only half of the sculpture remains.

Instead of blood, baby snakes pour out, and in place of intestines, winged serpents coil. Beside them, a father figure screams, tearing at his chest. Whether he’s trying to save his child or suffering from venom spreading through his body, we cannot know! That, after all, is in the realm of the observer’s interpretation!”

The old man coughed roughly. But somehow it also looked like he was laughing.

“Archaeological value, excellent preservation, outstanding aesthetic value—the potential of this artwork is limitless. By sheer chance, our auction house acquired this item, and finally we can present it to you. As today’s highlight and grand finale, we’ll start the bidding at… 200 dollars.”

Number paddles rose from all around.

“250 dollars.” / “275 dollars.” / “300 dollars.”

The old man’s smile brightened, and the excitement intensified.

“330 dollars.” / “360 dollars.” / “400.”

The price had doubled from the starting bid in an instant.

“500 dollars.”

A commotion arose in the crowd. Five hundred dollars in one go! The bidder was a handsome young man with an elegant mustache.

Then,

“550 dollars.”

Emma Scully raised her hand. The man immediately countered.

“575.”

Emma responded right away.

“600.”

“625.” / “650.”

“675.” / “750.”

The man, as if resigned, said:

“900.”

He raised it by 150 dollars at once. Concern flashed across Emma’s face, but she said:

“1,000.”

“The starting price was 200, and now it’s up to 1,000?”

But that was just the beginning.

“1,500.” The man remained calm.

“1,750.” Emma bit her lip.

“2,000.” Like a picture cut from a magazine, the man’s smile never changed.

“2,250.”

“2,500.” The man shook his head.

“2,750!”

“3…”

The man cleared his throat pretentiously.

“…500.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed.

“3,500 dollars. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

Emma swallowed hard.

“Any more bids?”

The old man’s hand moved toward the bell. Then:

“5,000 dollars.”

It was Aurora. The old man’s smile froze. Even breathing seemed to stop.

“What did you say…?”

“5,000 dollars.”

Aurora confirmed. The man, no longer smiling, raised his hand.

“5,500 dollars.” / “6,000 dollars.”

“Are you serious?”

“Auctioneer.”

Aurora’s voice was sharp.

“Focus on your job.”

The host fumbled. The man made a gasping sound.

“Six thousand… six thousand five hundred dollars.”

The price had already exceeded an average doctor’s salary for two years. Aurora immediately raised the bid.

“7,000 dollars.” / “7,050 dollars.”

“7,070 dollars.” / “7…7,150.”

Aurora blinked once.

“7,500.”

The man clenched his fist so tightly it turned white.

“Any more bids?”

“8,500!”

The man shouted as if spitting it out. His face was gleaming, his eyes shining with madness.

“10,000.”

Everyone’s breath stopped at once. Aurora confirmed once more.

“10,000 dollars.”

“Any more bids?”

There were none. The old man rang the bell.

“Number 22, 10,000 dollars! Sold!”

I whispered to Aurora, asking if she was being too reckless. Aurora looked me up and down once, then covered her mouth with her fan.

“I am the mistress of the night.”